Green
by The Mishmosh Bird
Summary: "Hey there!" Andra jerked her head up. It was a kid, couldn't be older than fifteen with this bizarre combination of black and white hair, and a black shirt with a white symbol on it. What the hell? "You seen my dog anywhere? He's green, about this tall," the kid stood on his toes and brought his hand up over his head, demonstrating, "I've been looking for hours."


**Hello people,**

 **So this is something else I whipped up for English class. I read over it and thought it was cute, so I polished it up a little and posted it. And just a note before you start,** ** _Safta_ means** **grandma in Hebrew and** ** _Sabba_ means** **grandpa. The reason to why I used them should be clear after you've read the fic.**

 **Disclaimer; I don't own anything. Except for Andra. I own her.**

 **Without further ado,**

 **GREEN**

 ** _By The Mishmosh Bird_**

* * *

Andra Theorin knows that in life, not everyone can get what they want. Those who don't will just have to suck it up, bottle it in, and move on. Andra also knows that she's a strong, independent women, and she's no stranger to pain and hurt. But that doesn't mean she can't take the time every once in a while to let her tough image dissolve.

Everyone knew to stay away from her on days like these. In fact, they had a name for them. Graveyard days, because Andra never failed to visit her grandparents' graves whenever she got like this.

On a regular day, if anyone were ever to ask her, Andra would always tell them that she wasn't upset, that her Safta and Sabba were old anyway. She'd assure them that she knew they had lived a full life, that she would not waste her time grieving when it would do no good.

On Graveyard days, though, Andra would refuse to talk entirely. One little word would set her off and she'd retreat into herself and her room. She'd let herself feel the aching emptiness her grandparents left in her chest. She'd let herself cry over the thought that Safta would never give her that gentle embrace after a bad day anymore, that she'll never again hear Sabba's smooth baritone as he tells her fascinating stories of haunted houses on Halloween and ghost hunting adventures.

Andra would let herself crumble and then she'd get into her car and drive for two hours, all the way to Amity Park Graveyard.

These visits always went the same. Andra would kneel and put her right hand on Safta's headstone and her left on Sabba's. Then she would tell them how much she missed them. How much she wished that they didn't die because of some idiot who drove too fast, though Safta always told her to be careful what she wished for. She'd tell them everything that happened since her last visit and the thing that made her visit this time. She'd promise them that she'd stay strong, that she's getting better.

And when Andra leaves, she'll always feel guilty for her lie.

It's been a year since the accident and Andra was not getting better. If anything, she's getting worse. Her hurt was like a festering wound that pained her more with each passing day.

That's the way these visits always went. It was routine. Tradition. Borderline religious ritual.

Until that day the boy showed up with his green dog.

"Safta," she had been saying, "I finally got that degree I've been telling you about. The exams were as horrible as I thought they would be, but at least I'm familiar with habeas corpus. It's a relief to not have to worry about that anymore, but I don't really know what to do with myself after the exam. I mean, it felt like my whole everything was, just, focused on getting through. And now that I'm through, I feel...so lost. I remembered how you always told me to persevere and that things will work themselves out and, I guess it's delayed stress or something, but when I remembered that, I just … kind of broke a little, because I wish you were around to tell me that yourself. Sorry, I shouldn't say wish. Anyway, then this guy made some comment about this party he had last night and how he got smashed and how he drove himself home anyway. And he was saying how unfair it was that now he had to pay all this money and had his license taken away 'cause the police caught him. And … I don't know, that just really pissed me off. And I felt like I couldn't handle and I had you on my mind and I felt so lost. So, well, I needed to see you is all."

She turned her head to the left, "Sabba, remember how I said I was going to paint the living room your favorite colour? Well-"

"Hey there!"

Andra jerked her head up. It was a kid, couldn't be older than fifteen with this bizarre combination of black and white hair, and a black shirt with a white symbol on it. What the hell?

"You seen my dog anywhere? He's green, about this tall," the kid stood on his toes and brought his hand up over his head, demonstrating, "I've been looking for hours."

Was this kid for real? He can't seriously have interrupted her mourning just so he could play some practical joke on her. No one's that much of an insensitive jerk.

"Seriously, he's huge and green. You can't miss 'em … Ha! I'm just kidding with you, 'course I don't have a green dog," on second thought, yes, yes people can be that insensitive. The kid interrupted her thoughts with a loud clap, "So, what brings you to this fine cemetery on this fine day?"

Andra looked up. The sky was gray and overcast and she would bet good money that it would rain later. A sharp gust of wind ruffled her hair.

"Are you messed in the head?" She asked, half to insult, half genuinely curious, "or just that much of a jerk?"

"Oh, both," he replied breezily, "name's Danny, by the way. And you still haven't answered my question. What brought you here?"

Andra shook her head. This kid was crazy. Off his rocker. Lost his marbles. The best course of action for her would be to keep quiet and hope he goes away. Yeah. That sounds – where'd he go?

Andra stood up and spun in a circle. Huh. Well, her tactic must have worked better than she'd ho-

"Ah ha!"

Andra whipped her head around so fast she heard something in her neck go crack.

"C'mere Cujo!"

At his words, an enormous green mastiff, every bit as big as the kid said it was, bounded out from behind a hill. What the hell did this guy do to his dog? Dye it?

The dog pounced the kid, Danny he said his name was, causing him to fall on his back with an oomph.

"Where've you been, boy? Huh? I thought you'd ran off again. Didn't I tell you not to do that? You could destroy something by accident!"

Well, Danny did have a point. A dog that big could easily cause a load of damage. Andra could just picture the size of the bite mark a dog like Cujo could leave behind. But then – wait a minute, how did a kid like Danny even get his hands on a dog this size?

Andra stared at him. Really looked at the kid beyond a cursory glance. What she took to be a nest of black-white hair was really more just white with the tips dyed black. Maybe he's got a weird mutation in his gene or something, she didn't know, she's majoring in criminal law, not biology. Regardless, that kid's hair was, beyond a doubt, naturally white. And his eyes, which she had taken to be hazel where actually a swirling mix of blue and green. The symbol that she saw on his shirt, now that she's got a closer look at it, was a flaming white D, in fancy print. It's strange, she thinks, to walk around with the stylized first letter of your name printed on your chest, but to each their own.

"Who are you?" Andra found herself asking, hostility almost forgotten.

"I told you already," the kid said, as casual as ever, "I'm Danny."

"I know that," she waved her hand impatiently, "But … who _are_ you?"

Danny's sunny expression darkened and Andra was forcibly reminded of a Stranger Danger poster she saw that time at her cousin's high school, which is really weird, because Danny, judging from his youth, must still be in high school himself. But his sudden shift in mood was so unnerving, Andra took a subconscious step back.

"Well that's what everyone want's to know, isn't it?" Danny's oddly colored eyes sharpened, the blue becoming ice cold and the green glowing too bright, "I guess if I were honest, I'd tell you that I … don't really know myself. I'm actually pretty old. Older than you think I am anyway. And after all these years … these crazy years … I still don't fully know who I am," Danny gave a small chuckle that sounded familiar and his expression softened, "Crazy, isn't it?"

It hit Andra right then, Danny must have some weird mutated genes that made him look funny and stunted his growth, he could be older than her, for all she knew. Andra felt a hot wash of shame. Here she was, doling out judgment and hostility, breaking down over some stupid guy's comment when Danny was stuck looking and being treated like some kid for who knows how long. No wonder he seemed like a jerk, Andra can't really blame him for messing with people. If she was stuck in the body of a teenage forever, she'd probably act like that too.

Danny cut into her musings, "You probably think I'm weird and all but you're young. And life probably looks pretty long from where you are. All I'm saying is, it's not. It's really not. It doesn't matter what you do with yourself, really, as long as you're happy. After all, isn't that what everyone wants in the end? To be happy? You don't even have to know what you're doing, with yourself or with your life. But you should know that there really is only one predictable thing about life. It ends. So don't waste your time on people who are already gone, alright?"

He stared at her with those piercing eyes, making sure she understood. Then he suddenly seemed to realize something.

"Hey, where's Cujo gone? Dang it, I lost 'em again. Ah, well, catch ya later, alligator!"

With that, he sprinted off shouting at the top of his lungs,

"Cujo! Come'ere Cujo! Here boy!"

Andra stood for a while, rooted to a ground, as an imperceptible weight lifted from her being. Then she shook her head and walked off, her steps noticeably lighter than before and for once, not feeling guilty at all. If she had looked back on the headstones, she would have seen the strange boy and his dog fade from sight as though they had never been there at all.

It was only on her drive home, while listening to the pitter-pattering of the rain, that Andra remembered. She had completely forgotten to tell Sabba Daniel how she had the living room painted his favorite colour; green.

* * *

 **Ha! How's that for an ending?**

 **All reviews are always welcome. I love to hear from you guys.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **~Bird**

 ** _Edited: June 14th, 2016 4:38 pm._**

 ** _Edited: June 19th, 2016 4:16 pm._**

 ** _Edited (you're probably starting to see that I'm an obsessive-compulsive editor): June 26th, 2016 9:40 pm_**


End file.
